Chapter ten: Love, Finally Understood
Elizabeth was telling Mr. Darcy of her encounter with Mr. Wickham, completely unaware of the storm that erupted in the former's mind and heart at the mention of the latter.
As soon as the name slipped out of Elizabeth's mouth, Darcy felt his breath catch. He had not expected to hear anything from the man, and especially not so soon. His jaw tightened, and he could feel his teeth clenching ferociously. When he entered this library, hearing his old nemesis' name was probably the last thing he expected to hear during this conversation. Yet, the man had struck again, sowing discord and lies as he always did, and to Elizabeth of all people. How come that the rascal managed to spew his venom at people Darcy cared about?
Darcy's mind flashed some painful memories of his connection to the man who gradually become the bane to his existence, a thorn stuck in his throat impeding him from breathing. Images of his sweet and trusting sister, and of his generous father made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. As if that was not enough, Wickham was targeting Elizabeth now, who, against all odds, had become someone Darcy came to care deeply for. Would he ever get rid of this rogue? He seemed like he was following him like a malignant curse someone cast at him.
He braced himself for the worst. Indubitably, the innocent and kind Elizabeth Bennet would be puzzled to hear Mr. Wickham's report, probably full of many things, none of them complimentary to him. Knowing full-well the latter's inherent skills in the fields of lying and manipulation, she probably believed him. A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought about it. This incredible woman possibly loathed him. She probably requested an audience with him to ask him to stay away from her and her sister. He braced himself to defend himself. But how could he do so? He cannot reveal Wickham's character without unveiling the Ramsgate incident, which involved his sister.
However, Darcy's sadness did not last for long. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he was not dreaming. If his ears were not deceiving him, then the lovely Elizabeth had just told him that she did not believe Wickham's lies. Not only that, she also said that she defended him. Him, who showed her no particular kindness. Him, who behaved shamefully towards her before her fall. Him, who refrained from visiting her at Longbourn when she was recovering because he wanted to avoid her as if he was avoiding the plague. Him, who did not defend the balance of her mind when Caroline Bingley attacked it this morning. Yet, here stands her revelation as a testament of soundness of the mind.
Almost everyone of Darcy's acquaintances fell victims for Wickham's falsehoods. From his own family, to merchants and vendors, people seemed to be touched by his charm and his sob stories. Even his own father, a man Darcy revered above all, had also been taken in this rascal's deceit. Yet, here comes Elizabeth Bennet, a woman who lost her memory and who does not recognize her own self, a woman who did not have a particular reason to favor the stoic and detached Darcy against the charming and flattering Wickham, to stand out from the crowd, and to refuse to fall for his lies.
More than anything, she defended him. Darcy was not worthy of this, not when he himself did not extend her the same kindness. Not believing Wickham was one thing, but choosing to stand up for him testified to her endless graciousness. Elizabeth Bennet accomplished what every one else failed to grasp. She … She was different. He had never known a woman like her.
What was more confusing to him is that she was telling him this not because she was conniving to secure his regard. She did not seek any particular payment in return for her 'service'. She simply wanted to warn him out of her genuine concern for him and his reputation, even if she did not want to intrude on this private matter. The woman never ceases to amaze me, she never fails to flout and surpass all of my expectations, he mused fondly.
Darcy was still unable to form a response, caught between bewilderment and gratitude. He looked at her, her face sincere, her eyes steady, truly consistent to the integrity of her character, as she said. Caroline declared the woman decisively insane simply because she wanted to tend to her sister. Yet, little did she know, that Elizabeth Bennet was probably the most intelligent woman he ever met, despite her head injury. She possessed the necessary sharpness and perceptiveness to see past surface-level charm, and to discern truth where others were easily deceived.
A swell of emotion rose in his chest; it went from relief, to amazement, to gratitude, to respect, finally followed by deep admiration. No, it was more than that, much more. Genuine affection was stirring within his chest.
She defended him. If he were to repeat this hundreds of times, it would still elate him; it would still fill his heart with warmth and tenderness each time. She had defended him, not out of obligation, but simply because she trusted her own judgement. It was a trust he had not expected, and it stirred something within him. For once, Wickham's eagerness to disparage him was dismissed and even repudiated.
He locked his gaze onto hers, and he felt something irrevocable shift within him. He knew that his feelings for her had deepened into something more … something far beyond admiration. He helplessly and irretrievably fell in love with her. It was a fierce, undeniable affection that coerced his heart to yield, in ways it never had before. He was aware of it now; the firm pull of his heart toward her. He heard of love before, he read about it, but he never knew that it could be so powerful, so all-consuming.
He realized that he did not say anything for a while. He relaxed in his chair, and he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper "Miss Elizabeth, I …"
But the words caught in his throat. He cannot allow himself to be hasty. He cannot reveal his heart just yet. He cannot lay his soul bare in front of her, yet. His heart might belong to her now, but his mind was still his, and it snapped out with full force to ring alarms. There were plenty of things to consider first.
"Miss Elizabeth, I appreciate your candor. Thank you for telling me about this. I will write to my solicitor and request his intervention on this." He avoided her gaze when he said these formal sentences.
Elizabeth simply nodded, and rose of her chair. She was obviously about to leave, and he was still not ready for that yet. He was immediately on his feet.
"Miss Elizabeth, may I escort you back to your sister's room?" He offered his arm to her, and she accepted it. Together, arm in arm, they made their way to the room where Jane Bennet was residing. His heart was pounding ferociously in response to this proximity, but he kept silent.